Sex, Drugs, and Dance, part 1

In March, he came to me with a question. ‘Do you have WhatsApp or another secure messenger?’ We had done MDMA together a few years prior. I knew we were about to go down a rabbit hole.

Plant medicine Ceremony. A shaman coming up from Peru. An incredible location in the Cascades. $700.

I briefly guffawed over the price, then caught myself. When the heck would I get another chance to do something like this? “I’m in.” Sometimes life presents opportunities to take a leap, to plunge from the cliff of the known world into something completely unprecedented. I had just agreed to make that jump off the edge of the map.

Going from a semi carnivorous beef-rich diet to a no red meat, no salt, minimal animal fats kind of ritual diet was almost a deal breaker, but part of me wanted to show up for myself, to meet the challenge and wring every bit of ‘goodness’ out of this Ceremony. I pushed through discomfort, spurred on by an almost religious calling outside of myself. The day of the Ceremony, I fasted. I was almost useless for the first few hours of the day, as I slowly attuned to using my internal resources. I arrived at our glorious cabin feeling crisp, and excited, if not a bit tired. The first thing that struck me was the hugs. Full, slow, serious, loving hugs. Without masks. This was real wholesome wonderful human contact. I sensed I could be safe here, at the very least. I found a place to stash my things and began the long wait until the Ceremony, food, and sleep.

As night began to fall, our guest of honor finally arrived. A simple man, looking every bit the part of a Shaman, he slowly got to work preparing the space, setting up instruments, and brewing the mysterious medicine. I was getting grumpy. I was ready to get this show on the road. As the last bit of light left us, we circled up in the main room, and preparations finally were underway. Our Shaman began to smudge the space, room by room, with his tobacco. It smelled of baking cookies, like my mom used to make for Christmas. I like to imagine that each person smelled something from their childhood in that tobacco. Finally, ill-prepared as I was, with some blankets and pillows, we were ready to begin. We each got a tiny cup of green liquid. Salud! We tossed back our cups and settled in, as the drumming began and the prayers started flowing.

English, Spanish, Hebrew, Sanskrit, dialects from the jungle, all were interweaved to the beat of a drum as we sat in almost total darkness, waiting for something to happen. My stomach gurgled a bit, and I made sure my ‘wellness bucket’ was close at hand, and clutched at Slothy. Hours went by. I was offered another cup of medicine. I accepted. By this point, I was a maudlin tired and wired, and just getting more and more upset. As far as I could tell, the medicine wasn’t doing a THING. I got up, I paced, I went to the bedrooms. The volunteer, there to help us out, came to check on me. “I’m fine. Absolutely fine. Unless you can make it work, you can’t help me.” I was simmering with bitterness. The outrage! To pay all this money for a night of sitting soberly in the dark! How much would a LYFT ride home at 2 am cost? The host could pay for all I cared. After a third cup of medicine, and at least 5 hours in the dark, the lights came on, and the first night of Ceremony concluded.

Everyone was elated. People embraced. There was joyful weeping….and there was me. If I hadn’t carpooled, I would have LEFT. I opened the door to pace outside, and was greeted with pitch darkness. Out in the mountains, far from city light, there was almost nothing to illuminate the outdoors. I turned back inside, as a man tried to assure me that this would pass and this was only my Ego hurting. What did I care, he probably had a great night. I pushed past him, my walls and barriers up. I detached emotionally from everyone else, head in my hands, tears flowing onto the kitchen table. I shovelled bland food into my mouth and as everyone drifted away, I was left at the table. Quietly, one man pulled up a chair. I didn’t want to be seen, but I was there, in all my snotty mess. He simply reminded me how brave it was to be there, and how he had learned that there is power in softening and letting go. Despite my armor, part of me heard him, and I slowly climbed back into my body. I resolved to show up and try again. I thanked him, and headed to bed.

I awoke a few hours later, somehow refreshed. Feeling optimistic, I headed outside for some impromptu yoga, enjoyed a nice breakfast, then headed out into the driveway. I opened a map app on my phone. The meager GPS showed a trailhead nearby. My destination chosen, I grabbed a coat, and headed up the road. I walked slowly, deliberately, taking in the surroundings. Farm houses and cabins lay tucked into the trees, as I crossed a bridge and headed up a dirt trail. I walked for hours, in complete silence, hearing almost nothing save for a bird or two. The trail began to climb, and I grabbed tree branches as supports as I began to kick through hard packed snow in the shadows of the sunny mountain. The views were spectacular, and I took in the Cascades from a well-placed picnic bench. I sat in stillness on a sunny peak. This, this was what it was all about. I invited in the splendor of the branching paths running far into the mountains, and turned back for home. I took a ridiculously steep detour back down the trail, scrambling down the side of a hill, admiring the vegetation and impromptu trail-running through the mountain bike paths down to the trailhead.

I reached the Cabin in the late afternoon, kicking off my shoes with a hot tub in mind. As I sat in the backyard, I could hear the thump of a beat coming from the corner of the house...the direction of the tub! I turned the corner, and sure enough, it was party time. A few naked Ceremony participants were groovin 'and talking in the tub. I took off what I had, and had a great soak! It felt very freeing to be naked around other people. After the tub, I grabbed a blanket and took a little nap in the lawn. Rested, and belly full, I was much better prepared for round two. As the sun began to set, we took our places in circle once more, and this time, I brought the mattress off my bed, ready for the gauntlet ahead.

The second night began much as the first, minus the fatigue. It was also a little bit earlier, so that was nice. This time, I began to focus on my breath, coming back to myself and not trying to make something happen. By the time a second cup was offered, I was feeling optimistic, but still rather sober. The cup was filled completely, and I took my place again. As the drumming went on, my tiredness overtook me, and I lay down. As I lay there, my body began to really feel connected to the flow of the beat and the prayers. I felt something! A primal, jungle-like environment surrounded my senses. Not long after, the ceremony concluded, and I joined everyone. It was a complete turnaround. I felt like we had all shared in something great. Everyone was immediately my friends, my new family. We shared excitedly for hours, into the wee morning. I share epic hugs over squash and laughter. People talk of deep things. Eventually, I head off to bed, content that I had shown up and had an experience, just like I wanted.

Sunday came with a level of guarded optimism. Everything was more or less concluded, so I was just ready to go home. I instinctively shifted into waiting for time to pass, fasting, slowly getting grumpy, and slowly moving out of my wise adult self. By the time it was checkout hour, everyone was lackadaisical, playing in the lawn and content to talk about inane things forever. I sulked in the car, and pretended to read a book. Eventually, the cabin owners came, and our group explained with nonchalance that we just weren't ready to leave! One of the hosts stepped forward, calling a name with a questioning tone. Someone stepped forward from our group, returning another name with incredulousness. They went to Burning Man together! They hadn’t even known that they would both connect here. The first of many serependities to come. As I closed the door on that car and we pulled away, I put the finishing punctuations on my first stories of the weekend. I had learned the power of softening, showing up, being vulnerable, and the magic of just being seen by loving, open hearted souls. Little did I know that the car ride home would crack me wide open and nudge my life in a completely different direction that I could have ever hoped to go…..